


Heart's Desire

by Apathetic Lambchoppi (Apathetic_Lambchoppi)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Dimension cliche, As of 6/9/16 I've written some of it, Canon universe up to the forest scene in Deathly Hallows, F/M, Gen, Harry/Tom is new, Just kind of too intense to just be...not romantic I suppose, M/M, Main character death in the canon universe, My newest chapter has kinda made it happen, No Bullshit Potter, Not a romantic relationship between Voldemort and Harry, Total accident I swear, Very Slow to Update, War Hero Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-05-14 14:26:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5747836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apathetic_Lambchoppi/pseuds/Apathetic%20Lambchoppi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter. War general. Husband. Boy-Who-Lived. Much had changed since the Battle at Hogwarts, and war was no game. Harry knew that all too well. When faced with his heart's deepest desire, will he be able to turn away and do his duty? And will Voldemort let him?</p><p>AU from Harry's trip into the Forbidden Forest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

_I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity._

_-Edgar Allen Poe_

* * *

_ Pit. _

_ Pat. _

_ Pit. _

_ Pat. _

_ Pitter Pitter. _

_ Pat. _

Great fat raindrops fell from the sky, splashing on all surfaces, creating a familiar atmosphere of cold and grey. It reminded him of late nights with his friends in the Gryffindor common room. Hermione would nag about how they shouldn't have procrastinated, but all three of them knew it was no good. Both he and Ron would wait till the last minute no matter what their 'Mione would say.

A silent tear fell down his pale, dirty face. He made no move to wipe it away. Harry found no shame or want to erase a sign of his loss. Every step, every thought, every  _ tear,  _ was given and made for those he had failed to save. It was the very least that they deserved.

Harry made no sound as he padded down the crumbling hallways of Hogwarts. Even after the Battle, the powerful magic within the great castle managed to keep it upright, if not a bit worse for wear. The portraits had all long since been destroyed or the inhabitants had moved to wherever portraits go when they find their frame unsafe. Seeing that the many staircases were still all mostly unstable, Harry levitated himself up, a ghost of a smile lighting his features as pleasant memories of better times washed over him.

As he passed the third floor corridor he thought of his first adventure with both Ron and Hermione. That Cerebus truly had been a frightening creature at the time.  _ I hope you're pleased with yourselves. We could all have been killed - or worse, expelled. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to bed.  _ Even after nearly two decades Hermione's words never failed to force a chuckle out of him.

Soon enough he finally made it to the seventh floor, but not without a few more laughs over the old days with Ron and Hermione. The now ripped tapestry was touched lovingly by thin, scarred fingers, but memories would not stop him once he was so close to his goal. With a clear image of what he wanted sent to his old friend Hogwarts, a tall, dark wooden door appeared and opened without a single touch. Harry silently walked in, unaware of eyes trailing after him.

A clear blue sky appeared from above, not a cloud in sight. No animals or trees could be seen in any direction, and the room was completely,  _ blissfully, _ silent. Bright green grass was as far as any eye had the ability to see, and lily flowers could be found scattered amongst the green. A single white flower floated into Harry's hand, and he relished in the calm and peace he had been gifted in that moment.

_ This  _ was what he needed today. This was what he wanted  _ forever _ .

He gently pocketed the flower and slowly strode up the only hill within the room. Sweet spring air tingled all his senses and he honestly couldn't remember the last time he felt so at peace. So  _ unafraid.  _ Finally, he made it to the object he had been seeking. An object his brilliant mentor had warned him of so long ago.

_ It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. _

He lightly caressed the old mirror's golden edge with his fingertips, Dumbledore's warning ringing clearly in his mind.  _ But what if all we have left are dreams Headmaster? What do we do when reality overshadows the greatest of nightmares with its own horrors? _

It was times like these that Harry wished he still had someone he could ask advice from. Even now, after so many years of being on his own, he was no more wise or intelligent than he was when he had first met Dumbledore by that sinful mirror.

_ And...what if I want to forget, or have already forgotten? What then? _

Indecision coursed through his veins, but deep down he had known, and  _ still _ knew what he wanted to do. He had fought much longer and harder than all his friends and loved ones. It had not happened all at once of course, but by the end of his thirty years he had lost them all. And now all he wanted was to see them again. To  _ rest. _

All he wanted was to race up and down the Quidditch pitch on his Firebolt while Oliver screamed techniques at him and the other players. All he wanted was to sit in the library while Hermione whispered her numerous study plans and tips while he and Ron joked and talked. He would even take Hermione nagging him to eat more in the Great Hall while his messy ginger friend stuffed his face and hollow stomach.

But most of all, he just wanted to see their smiling faces  _ one more  _ **_time_ ** . Not the war-hardened or fearful ones that overcame his Occlumency shields late at night when not even a cricket dared make a sound. Not the betrayed and sorrow-filled ones that were beginning to shadow the happier ones he treasured the most. In the midst of his inner conflict, his body ceased shaking he didn't even realize had started to begin with and silent tears quit showering his face.

An honest smile breached his chapped lips, one that hadn't shone on his face since his two closest friends had passed, when he had finally made his decision.

_ He was going to see them again.  _ **_Finally_ ** . Just as he moved to stand in front of the old, powerful mirror, a voice he had heard too many times echoed through the room.

"Hello  _ Harry Potter. _ "

His eyes dilated slightly, but no other sign was made of his fear or surprise as he turned around.

"Lord Voldemort. What a  _ pleasant _ surprise." Crimson eyes glinted maliciously, but no other change overcame the Dark Lord's face.

"Yes. Pleasant surprise indeed." Bone white hands gently caressed an equally white wand while a snake-like head tilted to the side.

"Why are you here Boy-Who-Lived? I thought you and your second in command- Penelope Clearwater was it?- would be gathering your forces to protect France." Harry's eyebrows furrowed in slight alarm, hoping his act would work.  _ This was supposed to happen. As long as the other plan works we’re safe.  _

"I have no doubts that Ms. Clearwater has led the way to France quickly and efficiently without my presence." Red eyes gleamed with something Harry couldn't quite identify at his response. Like a snake, Voldemort's hand snatched his jaw and the tips of too-long fingers pressed down on his chin as if his nails were fangs. Harry couldn't even remember when the Dark Lord got that close.

Ruby red eyes gazed down into his own that hadn't had glasses covering them for over ten years. A single finger slowly stroked over his Adam's apple. It didn't move.

"How  _ curious.  _ Has the Golden Boy finally given up on his useless friends? Has little  _ Harry _ finally surrendered to the big bad Dark Lord?" Voldemort said this all softly,  _ curiously,  _ as he stared down at his greatest enemy. Green eyes darkened with rage and furious magic filled the air around them. Cracks appeared in the once perfect blue sky and the light green grass became yellow and dry.

"I will  _ never  _ surrender to you Voldemort. Not now, and not  _ ever." _

All around them the once perfect world cracked and splintered, revealing the cold and dark underneath. The sky turned a dark reddish purple, black clouds littered the skies. The grass beneath them sputtered and died in a matter of seconds. White lightning pierced the black sea above in zigzagged lines. Dead lily petals fell from the sky like the light drizzle right before a heavy storm. Moments before they reached the heads of both men they turned black like the clouds they fell from and delicately broke apart, similar to ashes in a breeze.

The Dark Lord’s eyes became lidded at the sight, a smug grin splitting his monstrous face. He loved the responses he could rip from the Boy-Who-Lived, the green eyes cracking and revealing the  _ true  _ Harry Potter. The one tainted, and oh  _ so  _ delectable.  _ I will break you. And you’ll be aware every step of the way.  _ Suddenly, Harry’s eyes widened at the devastation around them. The Dark Lord allowed himself to be pushed away and watched in rapt attention as his greatest enemy and entertainment tried to calm himself down. Just before Harry managed to make the last lily turn a lush white instead of decaying black, an unexpected strike of lightning fell down from the skies and hit the only inanimate object in the room.

The old mirror.

A split second before the blast swallowed them whole, red and green met in one final look, and all both saw was a blinding golden light.

 

 


	2. A Whole New World

"And Hermione was struggling to her feet in the wreckage, and three red-headed men were grouped on the ground where the wall had blasted apart. Harry grabbed Hermione's hand as they staggered and stumbled over stone and wood.

'No - no - no!' someone was shouting. 'No! Fred! No!'

And Percy was shaking his brother, and Ron was kneeling beside them, and Fred's eyes stared without seeing, the ghost of his last laugh still etched upon his face."

― J.K. Rowling, _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_

* * *

 

_ What the f-  _ His eyes snapped open immediately, body protesting when he jumped out of the bed.

His heart didn't skip a beat as he took in his surrounding, but his thin fingers constantly twitched in the need to  _ act,  _ but after so many years such urges were simply ignored. Life in war wasn't easy, and Gryffindor tendencies were quite useful at times, but not always. One of those situations just happened to be when you wake up in an unknown place with a hazy memory of what happened before you passed out.

Yes, screaming and attacking the door he could tell was unlocked, but warded, even from over here would  _ not  _ be the smartest decision he had ever made. Not from a long shot.

After one more second his body relaxed, but not completely. Intelligent eyes soaked up all the facts he could obtain within the small room he had been placed in.

The place was nice enough, besides the bed, which was obviously made for medical patients. He could tell it was merely a guest room of some sort. Soft browns and creams made up the coloring while the bed glowed a harsh white. 

_ Hospital bed. Friend then? _

Beside the bed was a single nightstand which held one, cinnamon by the looks of it, candle, and a book he recognized to be  _ Quidditch through the Ages.  _ Harry couldn't help the nostalgic smile that overcame his face. That had been a book both he and Ron could easily admit to reading and rereading, while Hermione had only read it for a single time in their first year, but not out of enjoyment, no, for  _ educational purposes. _

_ Only Hermione... _ Harry thought fondly with a slight grin.

Suddenly, Harry heard the soft sounds of walking with only socks or bare feet and put the book down gently in what was hopefully the same spot it had been in. He laid back down on the bed and flicked his fingers lightly, casting the few protective charms he could do wandlessly,  _ just  _ in case they didn’t fall for his sleeping act.

After a few more seconds the door opened with a slight  _ Squeak!  _ and Harry smelled what he recognized to be female perfume.

_ So I'm dealing with a woman. I can probably take her down physically, and magically I’m fine with any lower level Death Eaters. While it would be in my best interest to capture her, for I'm sure there are people here more powerful than me in both ways, and use her as leverage to escape, why would anyone wishing to harm me keep me anywhere but a cell? And wouldn't they at least have me restrained? Something about this isn't right, and if they're allies I don't want to lose their trust. Best to act natural and kind until I learn more. _

Right before the woman reached her bedside he slowly lifted his right hand to cover the yawn he forced out of himself. He opened his eyes in a way he hoped looked relaxed and sleepy and jumped at what he saw.

Standing in front of him was someone he  _ knew  _ to be dead. Someone he had wished his whole life to meet.

Someone with eyes shockingly like his own.

* * *

 

She was incapacitated in under five seconds.

The first two had been spent leaping out of bed, grabbing her by the neck, and  _ accio-ing  _ her wand. After that he quickly batted away her attempts at attacking him with her own wandless magic, which were admittedly quite powerful, but no match for his.

Her light green eyes he noticed weren't  _ exactly  _ like his. Instead, they had small flecks of gold and blue while his were a just green. 

_ A sign of deceit, or perhaps a flawless transfiguration? _

They stared at him angrily and with a hint of fear and confusion, a look he didn't understand coming from someone who was  _ obviously  _ an imposter- most likely a Death Eater under the orders of Voldemort to fuck with his mind.

These past few years his 'equal' had just  _ loved  _ to test his limits. So far he hadn't reached a breaking point, but based on the situation he was currently in, Tommy boy was getting pretty damn close.

Harry noticed absentmindedly that his breaths were coming out in sharp pants and his heart was beating as if he was back fighting the Basilisk in his second year again. Normally, he was able to control himself when faced with copies of past loved ones. It was one of Voldie's favorite games to play.

He would have his Death Eaters look like his old friends who had already died. You'd be surprised at what a little bit of hair and skin could do, regardless of whether it was dead or not. He didn't even want to think of how many Hermione's and Ron's he had had to kill to save his own skin.

Each time it didn't get any less horrifying and sick, but he was no longer  _ surprised.  _ Not to mention fearful.

Right now he was feeling both.

The reason being that this was the first time he had ever seen his mother in the flesh, even if it wasn't his real mum-  _ of course Harry, don't you  _ **_dare_ ** _ forget that.  _ Even if he  _ knew  _ this to be some stupid lacky Death Eater, it didn't make the woman smell any less like the flower she was named for and have a few white spots on her pale skin that were undoubtedly flour.

_ He even made her look endearingly domestic? How sick can you get Voldemort? _

Suddenly, a voice he didn't recognize-  _ but did at the same time 'cause he just  _ **_knew_ ** _ if Voldemort was going to do this he would make sure to go  _ all  _ the way-  _ echoed up to the guest room and the Death Eater's eyes tightened with anger, and still, that confusing  _ fear.  _ It wasn't the fear for one's own safety, but for another's. It was a look he had only seen on one family of Death Eater's- the Malfoy's. And that was just because they all cared for one another deeply, even more than they did for themselves.

So why was this  _ Lily  _ imposter afraid for her partner in crime? It made unbidden thoughts form in his mind; ideas that just couldn't  _ possibly  _ be true, and scenarios that you only read or saw in crazy scientific dramas. But at the same time, it filled him with a deep, overwhelming feeling that he hadn't felt in  _ so  _ very long.

Hope.

And when he looked into those glassy eyes, eyes that were holding back tears that were undoubtedly forming for the man making his way upstairs, he wanted so  _ badly  _ to believe them to be true. He  _ yearned  _ for it.

But he was more jaded and smart than that. He knew this was all most likely a sick game Voldemort's twisted mind had come up with to break Harry, but he couldn't  _ completely  _ dismiss it. If something like this were going to happen to  _ anybody,  _ wouldn't it be Harry Potter? The Danger- Attracting Rule-Bending Luckless Boy-Who-Just-Wouldn't- _ Die? _

_ Yes,  _ Harry thought to himself while gazing into eyes he so  _ desperately   _ wished to be real,  _ if anyone, it would be me. _

 

* * *

Today had been a normal day to begin with.

Just like every day she woke up at 7 A.M. and went to make breakfast. After that she went through her morning routine and headed over to St. Mungos and started her part-time shift she had every summer.

Once her kids headed over to Hogwarts in September she would go back to full-time, but ever since the war started up again...well, she  _ had  _ to spend all the time she could with her kids. So Healer Preason gave her an alternative- work 3 hours for six days a week every summer in the emergency ward.

While the offer had seemed too good to be true at the time, her advisor and boss had stuck with it, so here she was. Luckiest mother in the world. So, at 8:30 she flooed over and by 12 O'clock she was home in time to make lunch.

While she would never be as good a cook as the Weasley matriarch, she wasn't as bad as her James. That man could burn water, and had proceeded to do so the first time Lily asked-  _ Please Lily, you  _ **_told_ ** _ me to, you lying minx.  _ Let's just say that after that day Lily was made to do all cooking in the house. Lily could still kindly persuade-  _ You mean FORCE you she-demon!,  _ her husband to do all other household chores, so it all evened out.

Anyway, today at around 3:30 her kids and husband had just been sitting on the beach at their summer home that was so Unplottable  _ they  _ didn't even know where it was. All they knew was that all Potter homes were keyed into their floos at home, and that the beach house had  _ amazing  _ wards that even Dumbledore couldn't find an issue with.

It was a perfect place to spend the summers for Lily and James, who were admittedly very powerful magically, and even physically in James's case, but vulnerable while having to take care of their children, who were 12 and 13. However, as James and the kids played in the salty waves, a bright golden light all of a sudden invaded her peripheral. While she at first just assumed it was the sun, something just kept  _ nagging  _ at her, so with one last glance at her beautiful family, she hopped up and went to investigate.

The only thing she noticed was how she continuously jumped a bit when her feet strayed on the hot sand for a bit too long- nothing else of interest caught her eye. Just as she was about to call it quits and go take a nap in the warm sun, she saw it.

A much too familiar shock of black hair.

She quickly ran over, knowing that only a Potter would be allowed here without the wards acting up or someone keyed into the wards. Eventually she came across the boy, and was grateful to see no obvious signs of damage. However, as she turned him over, her eyes met greyish white skin scuffed and marked with various cuts and bruises, lots of dirt and--  _ blood? _

Many other people would have panicked over the sight of blood-soaked clothing and many other wounds, but Lily was a healer, war veteran, and 35 year old woman to boot. This was nothing. She knew the boy either had to be a Potter, which was impossible because all of them were dead except James and their family, or an extremely powerful wizard, even more so than Dumbledore, to get past the wards so easily. Even then, James would have been warned that they had been failing, so that wasn't possible either.

Lily just assumed that one of her close friends had keyed the kid into the wards. Other than James and herself of course, Sirius, Lupin, Peter, and Dumbledore had the power to do so. So, it wasn't impossible that that had happened.

Lily uttered a quick  _ scourgify  _ and wordlessly levitated the kid and headed up to the house to heal him. She assumed that the boy had apparated in and just hurt himself. You  _ could  _ hurt more than your physical body when apparating. One of those being, what they called, 'splinching your magic.' It didn't happen often, but for those with a core they didn't have full control over, it was definitely a possibility. However, it was rare because only children usually had cores they couldn't completely control.

That's why apparating as accidental magic was not only unheard of, because you had to have  _ some  _ measure of control, but dangerous because a child could easily splinch their magic, and if not properly treated, lose it. Anyway, with thoughts of what could possibly be wrong with this boy running throughout her under active imagination, compared to the truth anyhow, she made her way up to the guest room that Sirius had claimed and laid the boy on his bed. Right after she assessed his body and found his wrist to be fractured and one of his ribs a little cracked, but nothing else seriously wrong with him, she healed both and sent a cleaning charm at his clothes, soon after fire calling one of the nurses at St. Mungos to send her one of their spare hospital beds.

Once it appeared she levitated the kid up again, chucked Sirius's bed into the living room, and laid him upon it. Finally, after she fed the boy some potions and attached an IV (the healers at Mungos called it something different, but Lily and all other muggleborns  _ knew  _ it was just an IV) she heavily sat down and decided to allow herself to just think for a moment.

Who the hell was this guy? A guy that looked like  _ someone  _ she knew with quite a bit of Potter characteristics. Without the grime Lily could see that the boy had the customary Potter hair and jaw. However, something about the rest of his face just didn't  _ seem _ like a Potter. Not to mention he didn't wear any glasses, which was something both of their kids shared because it was a gene Potter's could  _ never  _ escape.

For some reason, a part of Lily wanted to get closer to this boy. Something about him was  _ achingly  _ familiar, but she just couldn't tell  _ what.  _ So she got up, and slowly crept closer.

She could now see that he had the beginnings of crows feet and lines in between his eyebrows, meaning he wasn't as young as she thought. Maybe mid-twenties at the most.

Just as she was about to lift his eyelid to check his eye color, her wonderful, but  _ horribly timed  _ husband decided to scream, "Lils! Where art thou dear Lily-pad?! Us men and small woman require nourishment. Feed our bellies!"

She couldn't help but roll her eyes at James. Ever since she had forced him to read a few of Shakespeare's works he  _ refused  _ to not speak like someone from that time. And he didn’t even do it  _ correctly!   _ Idiot.

So, with one last final sigh and tightening of her lips, she headed downstairs, not noticing that right after the door shut, her newest guest opened his eyes.

* * *

 

_ This can't be happening. _

Lily stared with horror as the man she had  _ kindly  _ decided to let into her home-  _ without warning anyone at all of course because she's so fucking stupid!-  _ pushed her onto the bed without care and mumbled an  _ incarcerous  _ with her own wand. As the man walked slowly and silently to the door, she couldn't help but think back to when she had entered the room before.

After starting up a batch of cookies, because who could spend their last week of summer vacation without the sugary treat?, she had decided to bring up some food for her guest. She knew he would wake up soon, based on her diagnostic tests anyway, and wanted to make sure he was properly nourished before being bombarded with her questions.

She  _ was _ a good hostess afterall.

As she had stepped into the room, she gently laid the tray on the bedside table and watched as the man brought his hand up into a yawn in an  _ unbearably  _ adorable way and cracked one eye open at a time. Part of her was actually pretty excited to see all the man's facial features, just so she could figure out who he reminded her of, but before she could so much as introduce herself the man had gripped her tightly, stolen her wand, and batted off her attempts at wandless magic as if they were nothing.

While she was panting harshly, the man had seemed unaffected by what was happening, but Lily knew he wasn't. Within those dark eyes was fear, hate, and  _ hope? _ Suddenly, she realized this man most likely knew Legilimency, for who could do such powerful wandless magic without knowing the complicated magic?, so she shut her eyes as tightly as she could. But her captor didn't try to stop her at all. However, she couldn't keep her eyes closed for long.

Just a few second later her delightfully  _ stupid  _ husband decided to call for her again. They looked at each other for a split second and the man then strode over to the door, hiding behind it with  _ her wand  _ raised slightly.

"Lils! Where'd you go? I need your delightful presence while I scarf down your equally delightful food." He said this charmingly, but with a hint of suspicion.  _ Not enough obviously. _

Tears silently slid down her cheeks with every step her beloved James took. However, she had a plan. Just as the door was about to be opened she screamed.

"RUN! Get the k-" and then she was silenced.

But it was enough.

The door slammed open, almost ripping it off it's hinges. James ran in, hazel eyes burning with Gryffindor courage and passion. With her eyes, she tried to tell James the danger was behind the door, but it was no use. The second her husband ran in the room, a  _ stupefy  _ was shot at his back. She sighed sadly as he fell to the ground, knowing that he would have evaded the spell if he hadn't been so worried for her life.

She looked up to meet the face of her captor and was surprised at what she saw. Sadness and disbelief were prominent, same as the underlying anger and hate. But most of all she saw that blinding  _ hope. _

Why would her would-be killer feel that at the sight of herself and her husband? However, even while the man tied up her husband and warded the door, she didn't despair. For she knew one thing her enemy didn't.

Help was coming.

* * *

 

It only took five minutes.

The most surprising and  _ weird  _ moments of her life anyhow.

Right after both her and her husband were incapacitated, the man had warded the door with charms  _ she  _ didn't even know and carelessly shot a silent  _ enervate _ at James. Hazel eyes opened in a flash, his strong auror body automatically struggling to get out of his bonds. Her own dark wand was shoved in her husband's neck harshly immediately.

"Do not struggle or I will be forced to make you stop."

The words weren't said with any emotion, just calm fact. Lily made her eyes beg him to agree, and James reluctantly calmed down. Lily's eyes then strayed to the only clock in the room.

_ 4 minutes to go. _

"Who are you?" The man's wild eyes turned to face her, those same emotions from before burning within them .

For a few seconds his unnerving eyes just  _ stared  _ at her, and just when she thought he'd never answer, he whispered in his surprisingly soothing voice, "Does it matter?" and all she could think was  _ What the FUCK does that even mean? Of course it matters you psychopath!  _ But she didn't say anything lest she provoke him.

She let her own green eyes, which were welling up with tears,  _ without her permission! _ , stray to the only clock within the room again.

_ 3 minutes to go. _

"How about you give us an  _ actual  _ answer you bloody wanker instead of this cryptic shit. What the hell do you want?! We have money, heirlooms, the works. Just take it and go!" Of course her husband was also aware of the fact that help was on the way, but thank his Gryffindor soul that he pretended to be clueless. He  _ definitely  _ needed to tone down the rage though. Who knew what would set this guy off?

Suddenly, mad chuckles escaped their captor's mouth, and his own delicate-looking hand reached up to hold his chest, which was shaking. They seemed to go on for ages, but the chuckles soon slowly stopped, and the insane grin the man  _ had  _ been sporting slid off his face.

" _ Money?  _ You-you think- I…" And then he just started laughing again, as if what her husband had said was the most funny thing in the world. James mouthed to her  _ What the fuck Lily?  _ but she didn't respond. All she had eyes for was the clock.

_ 1 minute. _

The laughter stopped even more abruptly this time, ending with a deep sigh. His eyes shined with madness and disbelief.

"Either you two are the most  _ stupid  _ Death Eaters I've ever encountered, or you're the best. Usually his games aren't this intricate  _ or  _ last this long, mostly just because of how impatient the bastard is, which I'm sure you're both  _ intimately  _ familiar with, but really?"

At this point the man was staring at the ceiling, smiling all the while. "Do you think I'm  _ that  _ much of an idiot you crazy arsehole? Takes more than this to break me Tommy boy! I'm not going to play along!"

Seconds later he was right up in their faces, now sporting a grin that couldn't be called anything but malicious. Hatred and just absolute  _ crazy  _ shining in eyes that looked  _ much  _ too familiar to be comfortable with her all the while.

"I know  _ exactly  _ what's going on, and don't think I'm afraid to kill the  _ both _ of you just because of the faces you're wearing. You can't fool me! Not anymore, not again! Granted, this is new, but-"

_ Time's up bitch. _

And the room was filled with white smoke and spells of every color imaginable.

__  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! So yes, I deleted all the chapters after this one. And yes, I haven't updated in FOREVER. I've really wanted to, but I just hated my writing style for awhile...and I really needed to rewrite all my stuff. Too much terrible-ness haha. This story was the LEAST terrible, so that's why it's getting fixed first. Apologies to Malicious Intentions lovers. That's my least favorite right now haha. My Harry there is just SUCH a cliche...ugh. It will be fixed though! ANYway, I'm working on the next few chapters and I'll try to post a few of them today. And for those that commented and I deleted what you said....I'M SO SORRY. I appreciate EVERY comment, and I'm sorry your hard work has disappeared. Anyway, I hope you like the improved chapters. ( Prologue and this one have barely been changed, just word choice and little stuff like that).


	3. Fallacy and Reality

_You can close your eyes to reality, but not to memories._

_-Stanislaw Jerzy Lec_

* * *

 

_He looks just like me._

The second he opened his own hazel eyes that's all he could think.

_Just like me._

The same hair, same jaw, same _everything._ All of it, overwhelmingly _Potter._ Seconds later though, he forgot all of that when his mirror image got all close and personal and stuck his _own wife's wand in his throat._

Cold, electric green eyes stared into his own hazel, and he suddenly realized that this man looked _nothing_ like him at all.

* * *

 

_Finally. Listening to that crazy arsehole's ramblings was getting annoying._

White smoke filled the room, random flickers of all colors the only thing shining through it. Suddenly, it all dissipated, leaving a surprising sight before James's eyes. Littering the ground were over five bodies, each one completely unconscious. Backed up in the corner was the man that looked like him, _but didn't at the same time because he would_ **_never_ ** _wear that look on his face,_ with his sharp white teeth bared like an animal. His wavy black hair stuck up in all directions, looking as if the magic in the room was electrocuting him. His eyes were narrowed with hate and the primal need to survive, making him look all the more like the beast he was.

The few remaining Order members who were conscious pointed their wands threateningly at the man, each of them feeling slight amounts of fear and surprise. This single man had bested over five of their best members _alone._ What could he do when he could see?

The man's frosty gaze swept over each of them, the hate and anger still there, but another emotion James couldn't identify bleeding through. Suddenly, Dumbledore appeared in the room along with Sirius, who automatically went to untie him and Lily. Right before they could, the man froze unnaturally still, his frigid gaze stuck on the three new occupants of the room.

His mouth opened without his consent, but closed just as abruptly. His eyes bled with barely hidden emotion and Lily's wand clattered to the floor, the man's hands too busy holding themselves over his mouth in shock to even think about holding it.

"S-sirius?"

For one second, James couldn't help but see how _young_ this man was. It made him think of himself at that age, full of hope and life and _laughter._ War had been the furthest thing from his mind. Let alone working with Voldemort. It reminded him of a sad little boy with greasy hair and a big nose...a boy who had almost lost himself in the dark. _Oh you poor thing._ And he _hated_ himself for sympathizing...but how could he not? How could he stay blind when so many of his friends had fallen down the same path?

“I-you can’t…” His hands remained over his mouth, his eyes suspiciously watery in the light. He didn’t pull his gaze from Sirius, and James was sure he couldn’t if he wanted to. The man lowered his hands to his sides, so slowly the shaking of them was impossible to miss. He bit his lip hard, and from his own experience James knew that that was the only thing stopping the sobs. While everyone else had been watching with horror and confusion, Dumbledore had slowly inched his way forward, a kind twinkling in his eye.

"My boy-"

"NO! You don't get to call me that _god dammit!"_ The man had been up in Dumbledore's face with his old, thin throat in his hands in under a second. Dumbledore's twinkling didn't lessen.

"Why do you have to play with me?! W-why can't you just leave me alone." he whispered the second part brokenly. The hands suddenly became lax and fell to Dumbledore's chest, the man heaving and sighing, but not a single tear fell from his painfully bright eyes.

"I'm just so _tired._ I don't want to play anymore. Can't I just go to sleep like I wanted to?" The man's lost eyes met Dumbledore's own sky blue, seeing, but not seeing at all. Dumbledore said nothing, but smiled kindly down at him and this time, and the man couldn't hold back a sob and fell into his arms.

* * *

 

Warmth.

Right now, that's all he could feel. All he could understand at the moment. He could feel sleep pulling him

down...

down...

down, not allowing a single coherent thought to cross his blissfully empty mind.

_This is how I want to be forever._

And with that single thought it _all_ came rushing back. Shadowed eyes sprung open, mouth open in a silent sob.

_Too much, too much at one time._

He...he hadn't reacted that way since he first saw the polyjuiced Death Eaters of Ron and Hermione. It had just been a few months after their deaths, too fresh and painful for such things to happen...

* * *

 

He had first thought he was just hallucinating, and boy was he happy he was. It had been too long since he saw Hermione's gorgeous bushy brown hair and Ron's freckled face. As he saw them rushing towards him, he couldn't help but think that if this was insanity, he would gratefully fall into the abyss. But when Hermione's warm brown eyes sharpened into cold shards and Ron's shit-eating grin was replaced with a malicious smirk, he knew this was real.

But not in the way he wanted.

He battled them off, their curses pathetically easy to deflect. He dueled for hours, not willing to watch their faces be replaced with cold _death_ again.

_Please God never ever again._

But when Ron got close enough to grab onto him, he sent a cutting curse on instinct. His own eyes widened with disbelief, while Ron's cornflower blue switched from lively to that fucking _blank_ again.

Blank because of him.

He wanted to fall to the floor and just _hug_ him, pretend they were still teenagers and still got to play chess in the Gryffindor common room while complaining about Snape and his slimy Slytherins. Pretend that Ron's smiling face was no longer just a distant memory he would never get to see again. But Hermione- _no not Hermione never Hermione cause she's_ **_dead_ ** \- continued sending curse after curse. With a painful sob he took care of Hermione next, watching as the life flashed out of her eyes.

_Again._

He fell to his knees, cradling their broken forms in his hands. Her brown hair and his red tickled his arms. _They felt just like they used to._ And if that thought didn't break him he didn't know what would.

A broken scream forced itself from his lips, and he held onto them for dear life, pain-filled tears raining on their _useless, dead_ bodies.

_Bodies he had killed, stolen the life from._

He buried his face into them, refusing to believe they had left him again. Left him all alone to deal with it all. Like a child, he remembered the promise they had made to him on the Astronomy tower so long ago.

"We're never leaving you Harry. Did you really think after everything you could send us away?"

And he was so angry, so _mad_ because isn't that exactly what they did? Left him all alone to deal with Voldemort's sadistic games? He buried his face in Hermione's hair, sobbing harshly when she smelled just like she used to.

He sniffed desperately, just _dying_ for the chance to see their wonderfully _alive_ faces again, and he gripped them both tightly, as if that would bring them back, his body shaking and shivering. Right then, he wanted to be dead on the ground with them more than anything else. Suddenly, their forms changed back to their original ones and he pushed them away harshly, refusing to see them for what they were.

_A game._

But in the darkest part of his heart, a part he didn't even think existed, he was happy Voldemort had done this.

For Harry got to see his best friend's faces one last time.

* * *

 

Harry gasped again at the memory, but didn't allow himself to sob. If he started, he would never be able to quit. He pushed all the feelings away, the memories, and gripped his hair fiercely in his thin hands. He'd give anything for it to stop. He'd already given _so much._

He breathed in and out deeply, slowly calming his racing heart. With one final sigh, he released his black locks and fell limply on the soft bed. He traced a blue vein with his finger slowly, curious as to why he was still alive. He remembered his breakdown. Of course, part of him didn't believe it was real, for there was no way Voldemort's specialized Polyjuice Potion would work on Sirius. For his newest invention to work, you needed DNA from the alive, or dead, person you wanted to change into. However, Sirius's body had been lost to the Veil.

So how had he done it?

Harry couldn't help the shivers that wracked his aching body. Sirius had been the first family he had actually known that he lost. _The first domino to fall and start this horrifying caricature of reality._ In his worst nightmares he had never thought Voldemort would be able to go this far. Apparently, he was wrong. With one last sigh, Harry hardened his mind and body and slowly drug himself away from the bed. He absentmindedly noticed he still had the same clothes on from earlier and wiped the grit from his eyes.

He heard the footsteps long before they reached the door, and decided that something just wasn’t _quite right_. There was no way Sirius could be polyjuiced...and now that he thought about it, there truly wasn’t any way for many of the people to be there either.

 _We burned the bodies. And Dumbledore has been put away for a long time. So_ how _is he doing this?_

 _Am I...am I in my_ head?

Harry’s face unknowingly showed his shock while he furiously sorted through his memories of Legilimency-induced hallucinations.

_From the studies of Armogudus Reveral we know that all hallucinations, whether they are induced through outside magic or from the inflicted’s own mind, of never-before-seen actions of either the caster or recipient are impossible. Faint cloudy sight while within the vision is a common side effect of made-up events, similar to that of an edited pensieve memory. Falling asleep within such dreams is also impossible, for this only occurs when re-entering reality._

Only years of study allowed him to remember the text word for word, and right then he had never felt more relieved in Hermione’s insistence of near constant studying. Without it, Voldemort would have infiltrated his mind years ago.

 _So. I don’t see anything cloudy, and I know Voldemort only talked to my parents once (if you would even call it “talking”), and Sirius not at all, so this being a dream is_ not _possible. And only a Master Legilimens could create such an intense hallucination._

Harry breathed a sigh of relief at that, hands rubbing over his arms at the slight chill the thought had caused. Being trapped in your mind was _terrifying._ Something Harry was very much aware of. He stood suddenly, hating but unable to resist the urge to _move._ He disliked his impulsiveness, his impatience. It had hurt one too many people in his life, including himself.

 _Alright. I know I’m not stuck in my head. And I_ know _this can’t be polyjuice. Dumbledore’s body has been burned, and Sirius...Sirius is lost to the Veil._ Harry breathed out, happy for the mental exercises Hermione had taught him in place of Occlumency.

* * *

 

_“We both know you’ll never be a mental master like...Dumbledore or Snape or--”_

_"Or the Dark Lord?”_

_Hermione sat up straighter and more primly, if that was even possible._

_“_ Yes. _Or the Dark Lord. However, we can help clear your mind and sort your thoughts, to keep yourself in check.” Harry sat up too at this, interested in a potential cure for his hot-headedness._

 _“_ _You mean I can keep Him out; not fall for his tricks?” Hermione frowned at his excitement, thoughts going back to when Harry lost his one and only paternal figure._

_“No. You’ll never be able to keep Him out Harry. Not with the Horcrux.” Harry’s face fell, and it broke Hermione’s heart to see his attempts at hiding his disappointment. “_

_You_ can _control  Him once He’s in though.” A curious twinkle erupted in his eyes, and Hermione was suddenly reminded of Albus Dumbledore._

* * *

 

Harry smiled, Hermione’s genius never ceasing to amaze him. She had given him control of his _thoughts,_ and from that a slight influence on his feelings about them. As weird as it sounds, she taught him how to _think._ How to think _logically_ and _rationally._

_So, if this isn’t a hallucination or polyjuice--_

The steps slowed outside the door, blatantly attempting to listen in on him. Harry honestly wanted to know what they _thought_ they would hear. The door s lammed open, an irritable Sirius storming in, his face squished in anger but _too young_ to be Harry’s own. _He...he looks like the wedding photograph._ Harry swallowed hard, heart beating furiously in his chest. Dumbledore, Snape, and the Potter’s trailed after him. Harry bit his lip, angry at the heavy feeling in his chest. _If they aren’t fake, then what are they?_

“So, _Death Eater,_ what do you want from James and Lily? Did your nasty mudblood _Master_ send you to finish the job? Awfully pathetic of him to be too scared to do it himself.” It was very silent for a moment, while Lily seemed to want to strangle Sirius and James was simply surprised. Snape seemed unaffected, as Harry expected. Dumbledore’s eyes continued to twinkle, but Harry could feel the frost in the room.

“Is language like that appropriate Mr. Black?” Sirius’s face hardened, but he did rub his neck in embarrassment. He looked back to Lily, wincing at the look on her face.

“You know that’s got nothing to do with you Lils. Just wanted a rise out of _him_!” He looked back to Harry now, nose pointed up slightly in righteousness. Harry grinned then, although the warmth in his face was more somber than amused.

“What’s the date Headmaster?” He bit his lip again at the twinkle in Dumbledore’s eye, now beginning to accept that even now the old man was one step ahead of him.

“Why the _hell--”_

“It is August 21st of 1995 my boy.” His eyes widened, but not in the surprise Dumbledore as expecting.

 _Wait, what? This...this isn’t possible. I thought, maybe I had just gone_ back.

Harry looked back at Dumbledore and shook his head while the others remained oblivious.

“I’m afraid this is much more complicated than you’ve expected Headmaster. I’m no time traveller, though I have gone _back._ ” Dumbledore frowned then, while Snape quietly slipped out. Harry didn’t miss his exit.

“Wait-I thought we all agreed this piece of shit was a Death Eater!” Sirius appeared lost, and Harry enjoyed the wide-eyed puppy dog look on his face.

“I’m afraid not Black. Nothing is ever as simple as it seems.” Harry hopped off the bed, stretching his back while he sighed in appreciation. He was bored of the conversation. He told himself that at least.

“You guys got a bathroom nearby? I haven’t had a hot shower in _forever.”_ He breathed in deep and ran his shaking fingers through his hair. He needed to get out.

“Now wait here just one _second._ There’s no way--”

“Talk amongst yourselves. I’m going to wash this _scourgify_ off. Besides, I guarantee that Professor Dumbledore will have this all figured out _hours_ before any of us can. Certainly me in any case. Toodles.” He walked off then, stares burning his back.

* * *

 

 _What. Am. I. Doing._ Harry gazed at the summer sky through the window appreciatively, the cool wind from the water quite refreshing. He sat down heavily on the toilet, hands holding his face as he _attempted_ to calm down.

 _Stop. You know this isn’t a trick. You_ know. _There’s no way Snape could be polyjuiced, or Dumbledore, and definitely not Sirius. And this can’t be a dream from Voldemort. So what could it be?_

But with those realizations Harry couldn't think, because suddenly it became possible that those people--the people _right outside the door,_ could actually be his loved ones. His _dead loved ones._ That man outside might _actually_ be Sirius. And it might just be Dumbledore standing there with his eccentric robes and twinkling eyes. And that he might of _actually met his parents._ That they weren't some short clip of a photograph or a smiling image in a mirror-.

_The mirror._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There! First major changes. I think I dragged Harry's realization a bit. He's always been good at thinking on his feet, and with YEARS of experience as a war general I think he'd be even quicker about it. And Harry being good at Occlumency? Please. EVERYONE does that with powerful Harry. I don't want him to be good at everything--just better at what he already was good at. Chapter 4 will be a lot more different because of this. Hope you enjoy, and please let me know if this seems realistic, or if you honestly think Harry shouldn't have figured it out so quick. Or even Dumbledore. Thanks!


	4. How the Sun Shines

_"That it will never come again is what makes life so sweet."_

* * *

 

It was so very dark. And cold.

Millions of stars twinkled up in the sky, and the cheshire-grin shaped moon shined mockingly on him. His glasses slipped down his sweat and dirt covered nose and dewy-wet leaves crunched under his torn shoes. The forest looked on-so foreboding, but nothing, not his fear or pride, would stop him from doing this. Not when his final moment of truth was here.

In his hand lay the ring and with it the stone. He gazed down at it, the symbol mocking him just like that moon. He knew that Dumbledore had given it as a gift, the whispered apology he had never given him in life. He knew what lay within it, the power he now possessed. A power he wouldn't have hesitated to use just a few months ago. Now though...he couldn't.

He looked down at the unassuming stone, his lower lip bloodied by his own teeth gnawing at it. What would they think of him? Of what he was supposed to do? Would they be angry for him? Or would they be accepting of it all?

_Would they be excited to see me?_

Harry rubbed his face fiercely at that thought, and hated himself for... _looking forward_ to it. Harry didn’t know what happened...after, but if there were ghosts, there had to be something, right? And if there was, he got to see everyone again. No pain, no fear. And eventually he’d see everyone else too.

Harry didn't allow himself to think about wanting death though, the idea of being  _suicidal_ of all things impossible to contemplate. He just wanted to save everyone. That was all. So he did feel something other than fear, but he refused to name what it was.

He then allowed the memories of those lost ones to spill forth though, of Sirius with his deep blue eyes and dark curly hair (just a little grey but not too much) and he gripped his shoulders, young and fifteen, and said, “We’ve all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. That's who we really are."

And Harry hated himself because he was a _coward._ No, not for walking to Voldemort, no that was  _brave._ He hadn’t--he hadn't even let them say _goodbye._ And it was because he just _knew,_ knew that if he let them he’d not go. They would convince him that they could win without his sacrifice. But he knew something they didn't, something they could never know. With that he locked the guilt away, feeling very Dumbledore-ish of all things.

_This was how he felt. He made the hard calls, the ones that hurt everyone but helped them too. Like me._

So he bit his lip again and stared down at the stone, eyes burning at the idea of talking to them one last time--just in case nothing happened after. He rolled it once, then twice, and just as he hit the third he stopped.

_What if they don’t come?_

He shivered then and dropped the unassuming stone, lying forgotten in the dry leaves and dirt.

 _Best to leave it a surprise, yeah?_ And he walked to his death.

* * *

 

Harry felt pleased with himself. He was all nice and clean, his body still pleasantly warm from the magically heated water.

 _Nothing like smelling like a fruit._ Yes, he used womanly body wash. And yes, it smelt _fantastic._ Ron had always been surprisingly feminine in his choice of body scent.

_I don’t see why girls get to smell like cinnamon cakes and treacle tarts. I’d much rather smell like my favorite food than anything else, thank you very much. To be honest Hermione, I think you’re being a tad...what was it? Sexist? Yeah. I’m being discriminated against!_

Harry laughed then, as he always did when Hermione’s self righteousness bit her in the ass. You’d think she’d realize some of the stuff she said actually sunk in. And that neither of them were afraid to use it against her.

 _I wonder if this world’s Ron and Hermione fight too?_ His eyes shot to the door then, sadness suddenly overwhelming him.

 _There is a version of everyone I love and none of them know_ me.

He drew in a sharp breath and let it out, easily calming himself. _Things will get better. The sun continues to shine and the wind still blows and life goes on. And you’re alive to live it._ He breathed in again and let it out, the easy task focusing him. _How I miss them._

He traced the window sill and he looked out, the water in his hair cooling as the beach air blew inside. He had never been to the beach--which honestly wasn’t much of a surprise. The Dursley’s were inside folk. They enjoyed structured surroundings, neat and orderly and clean. Besides, the outfits some women deigned to wear were considered “scandalous” to Petunia, and while Dursley said he agreed, Harry imagined he didn’t based on the magazines kept in an old loafer shoebox deep inside their closet. Harry hadn’t been allowed in their room--not even for cleaning--but that didn’t mean he didn’t...explore.

Harry sighed again, knowing he should _really_ go back outside, but suddenly wishing beyond all reason to stay on this toilet-- _his toilet,_ mind you, because it made a lot of sense for this room to now belong to him-- forever and ever.

_You know you don’t know everything Potter. And there’s a reason why the Harry of this world isn’t around._

He shut his eyes then, his heart heavy with hurt. _How they must_ ache. Harry felt James’s and Lily’s pain. Harry had no doubt that this world’s Voldemort, _since no one else would be egotistical enough to name their followers_ Death Eaters, had killed little Harry instead of them.

 _To have a child stolen so quickly..._ Harry shuddered at the familiar pain, hating the cold of his chest. He suddenly felt water on his cheek, and he wiped it off miserably.

_I’m going to cry quite a bit, aren’t I?_

 

* * *

 

 

“He’s...familiar.” Lily said it slowly, but with a certain strength behind it. A strength James had never been able to defy.

“Lils--”

“No. I _know him.”_ She hit her chest then, green eyes unbearably bright and James remembered why he loved this woman. She was _so strong._

“It's...it's from the pit of my belly. From the second I laid my eyes upon him I _knew_ he was safe. If I had been suspicious, you _know_ I would have told you right away. But I didn’t. His reaction...it must be a fluke. Or it was to begin with. I can’t believe he’s here to hurt us.”

“So you’re saying we let him _stay? With the kids?_ Are you insane Lily!” She glared at Sirius, hair static-y from her anger.

“You think I would let him near my children? _God no!_ I just say we give him a chance to say his piece. I trust him enough to allow him that. Don’t _ever_ question my priorities Sirius. Not after…” She sucked in her lip and seemed to pull into herself, though she remained as strong a figure as ever. Sirius’s face softened then and held Lily’s shoulder as a lone tear fell from her eye. James remained quiet and stoic, face turned in thought.

“I know Lils. I...you know how I am about _those_ kind. Especially after--after _Wormtail_.” Sirius looked defeated then, like a kicked puppy. Lily smiled, watery but real, and held onto his arm and gripped James to her side.

“My two boys. You’ll be the death of me.” Albus stepped over then, eyes suspiciously bright as he stroked his beard.

“I trust your instinct here Lily. The...man is not what he seems. That I assure you of.” He smiled then, and Lily was suspicious.

“Is it true then? Is he...some sort of time traveller? I know he denied it, but you seemed so sure.” She folded her arms across her chest, eyes set and unwavering from his own.

“There are quite a few possibilities as to where our young mystery man originates. I believe we best allow ourselves to be surprised rather than come up with our own outrageous theories, of which I have quite a few.” He chuckled then and sat into a modest wooden chair that hadn’t been in existence not two seconds ago.

“He has to be a Potter. That’s how you knew, didn’t you Albus?” James whispered. And while Dumbledore didn’t glance over, for the only thing he had eyes were was the decorative tin of lemon drops within his palm, the group of three saw him grin, and Lily’s belly dropped while a door creaked open.

 

* * *

 

Harry liked watching them. He hadn’t opened the door at first, he merely used a small piece of _useful_ wandless magic, which had probably taken about two years to completely master if Harry was going to be completely honest with himself (there was a reason not everybody did wandless magic). It created an effect of a one-way window. Hermione, of course, had thought of the idea, like almost everything else-- _the warding was all his, he would swear to it, though Ron of all people had been the main person behind the spell creation,_ but Harry had managed to master it first. He had a way with wandless magic that neither of them did, something of which he had been very proud of during their early years of magical discovery. He had never been able to make sounds amplified wandlessly through, the magic too hard to manage simultaneously. Harry tried then though, and he swore the voices became a little less muffled.

Harry was mesmerized. He knew now that his deepest desire had came true--that for the _first time_ in his life he would finally know what his parents were like in the flesh. It hurt, and oh did it pain him so, but just the sound of their voices-- _voices he had_ never _heard,_ made tears blur his vision. Stories were nothing compared to the real thing, and long lost childhood fantasies tore at him. He had formed his own family of course--he would give anything to see Ginny and his children, _what was meant to be_ \--but having a _real_ father and mother had been something so long wanted that Harry didn’t think he’d ever be rid of it.

He traced a finger down the side of Lily’s face reverently, eyes wide with awe. A mother had always been something especially precious to him, and he just _knew_ years of therapy would be in his future if he lived long enough. Harry laughed then, an honest to God _giggle_ at that and smiled, knowing that would never happen.

_I have a duty to my own world. Life will end soon, but I must get back first._

Harry had no idea where Voldemort had been taken, or if he hadn’t been affected by the room at all. It had been under his control after all. He would never know though unless he went back, and for that reason alone he would have to try. This world may be nice, and Harry knew he would love to meet his parents, _like he was meant to,_ but that wasn’t in his story. He would return and die, like he was meant to some 13 years ago. _Like I was meant to at that mirror._

He sighed, lungs pained as he made his face blank. _Let the games begin._

 

* * *

 

 

“My apologies for the length. You can’t imagine how good an actual shower feels after everything. Figured it all out yet?” Lily glanced over at her attacker, her face almost twisting into a scowl. _The nerve of that man._

“I swear, I should have your head.” James chuckled behind her, and she wanted to knock his head a few times for ruining the effect of her glare. She mentally sighed; the man hadn’t seemed affected anyway.

“Oh really? You’re still sore over...our little spat?” He grinned then, and Lily hated the feeling of deja vu. _Let me be angry god dammit!_

 _“_ You-you came into _my_ home and terrorized _my_ friends and tied up _my husband_ and--”

“Now Lils, didn’t you just say to allow the guy a chance to speak his piece?” Sirius was grinning at James behind her, she just knew it. Idiots.

“Yes. I did. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve a good yell.” The man laughed then and fell onto the bed. _He sits worse than my own children!_

“Oh, I’ve missed that. I suppose I should spill the beans. Unless you wish to, of course, Headmaster.” Albus carelessly waved him on while his eyes remained unblinkingly upon him. Harry missed his Dumbledore.

“I’ve travelled here from an alternate dimension. The means of which are most likely unrepeatable. I won’t divulge much...mostly because I don’t feel like it.” At that Lily opened her mouth in anger, her eyebrows arched and a flush high on her pale face. Harry just grinned wider.

“Yes, very angry, I get it. All I will tell you is that I’m a Potter and that…” The man stopped then, eyebrows furrowing as he pinched his lips.

“Headmaster, you are aware of who I am, correct?” The lemon drops disappeared with a pop and the old wizard looked up at Harry’s scar with piercing accuracy. _How he didn’t defeat Voldemort sooner I’ll never know._

“I have seen memories no other has been privy to young man. Do not think me omniscient. And young Harry Potter did not die immediately.” Gasps were heard as the man and Dumbledore stared at one another, a silent conversation erupting between them.

“Merlin Albus. What does _my son_ have to do with _any_ of this?” James’s face was now flushed, along with Sirius. The man didn’t turn from Albus to answer, though the three knew his words were meant for them.

“It has everything to do with Harry Potter. Yours anyway.”

He stood then, strong and tall, and Lily felt why this man had bested over five Aurors. “I’m not just any Potter Lily, James. I’m Harry Potter, from a world where I am the survivor, and you are not.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed that! I realize it's pretty short, but I really like it. The ending is just where it NEEDED to end, ya know? :D If anything seems off, just let me know. I kind of need to make up Lily and James's characters as I go, since canon just tells us other people's impression, and you can't trust those. This chapter really showed us Lily. If you didn't guess, I made her love a lot with an equal amount of hot-headedness haha. Seems pretty in character, especially with how pissed she got at Snape in canon. Anyway, share your thoughts! I'm really interested on if anyone notices a link I've made, and I hope someone notices in my next chapter. (That's where the link is.) Hard to know what's subtle or not to others. :D If anything doesn't make sense btw be sure to ask. Alright, done rambling. Hope you enjoyed!


	5. New World, New Me

_ The timing of death, like the ending of a story, gives a changed meaning to what preceded it. _

_ \--  _ Mary Catherine Bateson

* * *

 

“ _ What.”  _

Harry saw their faces, the bulging eyes and open mouths. He didn’t doubt they’d never experience something quite as shocking as this ever again. 

“I think you heard me.” He twisted his hand, feeling with a tendril of magic, a  _ very _ neat trick he had tested for after reading it in a  _ fantasy  _ novel of all things _ ,  _ for any of his possessions. He saw no reason why his wand wouldn’t have survived the journey, especially since his clothes did. 

_ And myself.  _

Harry was pleased that Dumbledore seemed oblivious to his actions, but to be honest, he had no idea how far the old wizard’s knowledge extended.  _ Thank Merlin I’m on his side. There’s a reason Voldemort fears him so.  _

“I’m a 30 year old version of who your baby could have been. No, I’m not who he  _ would be.  _ Please, don’t think this is a way to get to know your...child.” Harry ended awkwardly, having no idea how to say  _ you're fucking dead child  _ without being terrible, even for him. 

They still winced, and while he felt their pain he had more important places to be.  _ And I can’t be around this now. Not when there could be a Dark Lord looking for me. Or killing all my friends.  _

_ “What!?!”  _ Harry smiled sadly at this other version of his parents while Sirius rambled, their faces cold with disbelief.  _ You poor people. What a reminder I must be.  _

“We-we were there, then?” James shook out of it first, swallowing heavily. Harry decided to allow them this, sending his bag to stick to a wall with a smart flick of his wrist. 

“Yes. You were.” 

James choked on air then, and Harry could feel their hurt radiate through the room. Sirius did too, for he let James grab his arm and roughly stick his face in his throat. 

“I-I don’t know what to say.” Lily’s tears hadn’t fallen, but Harry knew she would cry later.  _ She is strong, like they said.  _

_ “ _ I know. Go to your family Mr. and Mrs. Potter. I’ll be...around.” He summoned his belongs then, and with a solemn nod to Dumbledore and a twinkle given in return, Harry disappeared with a sharp twist. 

* * *

It had been four weeks. Four  _ blissful  _ weeks.

At the beginning Harry had second guessed himself, paranoia making him unable to talk to those who had died so long ago, some even before the First War ended. But the light, happy feel enveloping the streets put him at ease-- rightfully so. At the moment, Harry sat on a bench, the sky a deep blue and not a cloud in sight. He ate the last bit of vanilla ice cream from his bowl--  _ simple, yet entirely satisfying--  _ and couldn’t but smile at how  _ peaceful _ this world was. He mostly thought of those alive, and everyone he could think of was. Tom the Bartender, Ollivander, Fortescue, even the short, greasy man from Borgin and Burkes!

He hadn’t yet seen his long lost best friends, of course, since from the date he knew they were around 15 or 16. They’d be home, eagerly-- _ or not so eagerly in Ron’s case--  _ waiting to get back to Hogwarts. Part of him was dying to see Ron, Hermione, maybe even  _ Ginny,  _ but another part, a  _ larger  _ part, was grateful that he hadn’t come across them. Just like Sirius and his... _ parents _ , they wouldn’t be  _ his.  _ They’d be completely different, experiences shaping them and changing them into people unrecognizable to him. Besides, Harry had no interest in replacing them. His friends would remain alive within him, and in his opinion no one else, even another version, could ever even  _ hope  _ to compare. This realization had taken some time to arrive at, for no matter how  _ eventful  _ his life had been so far, nothing like  _ this  _ had ever occurred. And making this Sirius his own would only be too easy, along with the others.  _ This is why you got away. You can’t forget your true family.  _

Harry sent a nod at Florean, eyes glittering happily at the grin he got in return. He’d done a few odd jobs, mostly warding, and was now fairly well known to the people in Diagon. With friends came gossip, and with gossip he learned more about this world than the papers could ever inform him. This world wasn’t  _ entirely  _ perfect, it having a Voldemort of it’s own. However, no  _ war  _ was going on. It was actually  _ extremely  _ baffling to Harry. For some reason, this Tom Riddle had decided to gain power the legal way, at least as legal as politics can be. Of course he wasn’t playing  _ fair,  _ and Harry was sure that money was exchanging hands in a way the public probably wouldn’t approve of. But Harry didn’t  _ care.  _ This world, in his eyes, was pretty much perfect. What could be better than a war-free wizarding world?

However, his gut still clenched and churned at all hours, the jumpiness that had been too common in his own world never managing to completely disappear. He wasn’t overreacting, he knew this. And he wasn’t suffering from some version of PTSD (at least, he didn’t  _ think  _ so). Something else was going on, something Harry didn’t  _ know. _

Harry continued to roll theories around in his mind as he sent his bowl into the ice cream parlor. He watched as a small girl, no older than four, giggled and laughed, hand grasped by who he assumed to be her father. The girl’s hair was a deep red, curly and wild. And just then Harry was reminded of his own child, a child born with hair, but no heartbeat. And then Diagon exploded from the inside out.

Harry wanted to smack himself across the face. Blood and gore was splattered everywhere, body parts strewn across Diagon like one of those war films on muggle TV. Harry’s well-timed  _ protego  _ saved him and the family beside him, the girl’s tears and big blue eyes making his heart swell and then turn ice cold. His eyes narrowed as he looked around, spotting a few survivors, and even fewer actually unharmed. Most of those were Purebloods if he saw correctly, and that fact caused his mind to start  _ thinking  _ under the cool rage that repressed it.

He breathed softly, hand coming to run through his hair. He gave the father of the young girl a look, a look he hoped would wake him from his shock. He nodded in what Harry thought he meant to mean thanks and apparated from Diagon, and part of Harry wanted to smile.  _ I saved at least one. One more than expected. _

He was happy and sad to see that many chose to apparate as well, since this meant this  _ wasn’t  _ a regular occurrence. Of course, Harry had  _ known  _ that, but he had hoped. Hoped that like the few remaining wizards against Voldemort they would stay and tend to their brethren, stay and fight against whoever had dared attack their safe haven. In his world Diagon had been one of the few places those against Voldemort could call safe. And any who stayed within it were prepared to fight for their own lives,  _ and  _ for those around them. Harry shook his head, hating how he repeatedly confused his world for this one.

However, as he looked around at the gore and pandemonium around him, he realized that this world may not be that different from his own.

* * *

 

“And this will work? Many decades ago such tactics were used by myself and the Death Eaters, but not after... _ Potter.  _ ” Voldemort smiled at his alternate’s words. He was so  _ sweet  _ sometimes.

“Of  _ course  _ it will. The Wizarding World here is ripe for the picking. Their minds are soft and their hearts weak. So many years of peace have made them innocent, perfect for our plans. We strike hard, and we strike fast. And  _ you,  _ my...friend--” They both smiled at that, for they were so much  _ more  _ than friends, more than anything anyone had ever seen--”will save them from themselves, and from  _ me.  _ ”

Tom Riddle grinned lightly, barely a turn of his lips, red tinting the dark green maliciously, and Voldemort cackled, loud and  _ dark _ . Tom's face returned to it’s usual blank slate at the sight of a black haired wizard, glowing brightly within the picture of Diagon with pure power.

“I do not... _ recognize  _ this wizard. Is he--”

“ _ Potter.  _ ” Voldemort whispered with awe, his long strides shrouded by his long cloak. As he appeared by the image, bone white fingers traced the man’s cold face reverently and his eyes widened with hunger.

The grin on the Dark Lord’s face would have been frightening to any other wizard. Not to Tom though. Never to him, for he  _ recognized  _ that look. The look of  _ obsession.  _ Tom walked forward slowly,  _ curiously _ , eyes eating up the wizard, wondering how his potential downfall would have turned out if he had survived in this world, wondering if  _ he  _ would have had the same look upon his face if  _ his  _ Potter had survived. And for a moment, he wished that he had, if only to understand what this  _ other  _ him, a Dark Lord who had succeeded against all odds, felt. And when Voldemort grinned towards him, speaking of their plans, numerous plans, he realized that soon enough he wouldn’t have to wonder.

For he would soon find out for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all. Sorry for the wait. I kept on trying to think of what I could add to this chapter, but it was stubborn and decided it was complete. VERY SHORT. I try to do at least 4 to 5,000 words, but this one refused. The next chapter after this one will, hopefully, not take as long. And new chapters will be starting for anyone who has read this before. Be sure to let me know what ya think!
> 
> BTW-- Will SOMEONE write some good Tom/Harry? I've been craving it like nothing else, and everything I read is either bad porn or Tom and Harry are terribly OOC. I check archive every day it seems haha.


End file.
